


Bound

by Jain



Category: The Eagle | The Eagle of the Ninth (2011)
Genre: Community: eagle-exchange, First Time, M/M, Misunderstandings, POV Third Person, Past Tense
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-18
Updated: 2012-10-18
Packaged: 2017-11-16 14:11:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/540300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jain/pseuds/Jain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Esca can't bear to lose anything else.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bound

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lallyloo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lallyloo/gifts).



> Thanks to Isis for the speedy, thorough, and transformational beta-reading. Without her help, this story would have been lacking direction and much less coherent. The last paragraph in particular is almost entirely hers. Any remaining errors are my fault.

The first problem was the house. Esca had thought that he and Marcus would build it, perhaps with the assistance of some of Marcus's uncle's slaves: a small house not too big for the two of them, with thick, clay walls and a thatched roof. Instead, Marcus drew from the overlarge (to Esca's mind) purse that Rome had gifted him for the Eagle's return and paid for the construction of a Roman villa. It wasn't as grand as his uncle's home, but otherwise it was very similar, complete with a veranda and tile roofs and too-large windows that, even shuttered, would invite icy drafts during the winter months. It was only autumn, but already Esca had noticed the cold at night, and the winter promised to be a miserable experience.

Esca had once thought that he and Marcus would share a bed, piled high with wool blankets in the winter and thick with cooler linen bedding in the summer, that their travels and the hardships they'd endured had bound them together closer than brothers. But either Marcus didn't feel the same, or Romans showed their love for each other in different and less comfortable ways. The villa had four bedchambers: two large rooms for Marcus and Esca, each with a disconcertingly narrow Roman bed that made Esca feel as though he were a moment's inattention away from a spill on the floor, and two smaller rooms for their cook and their two farmhands, respectively.

The farmhands weren't British--one was Greek and the other Gaulish--but Esca had seen their room in passing and noted the shared mattress in the corner. Their sleeping arrangements were likely due to a practical desire for warmth rather than any great bond between them, but Esca still felt the occasional shameful longing to join them on cold and lonely nights. To attempt it would only draw their alarm and scorn, however, and knowing that made it easier to keep to his own bed.

The slaves presented an additional unforeseen problem. They thought well of Marcus, which was a blessing. But Esca was a source of confusion and resentment: a barbarian, not even a citizen, who called Marcus by name and slept in a room no less fine than Marcus's and whose clothes were identical to his.

If only they could do without slaves altogether, or at most with Aife the cook, but that was impossible. Esca had never imagined that Rome would grant such a large piece of land to Marcus as it had. (Marcus promised him that his property was quite moderate and even small in comparison to Roman farms elsewhere in the empire, but Esca couldn't see how that could be true.)

Marcus did bow to Esca's insistence that they keep a sizable swath of forest on the property for hunting and for the wood. The rest of the farm, however, he cultivated all at once. Vegetables, fruit trees, grain, flowers (required for festivals, Marcus said, when Esca tried to argue that they should only grow what they could eat), dogs for both hunting and herding, cattle, goats, sheep, geese, chickens: all were procured by Marcus and, of course, they required far more labor than Marcus and Esca could supply themselves.

Especially since their first harvest made it clear that Marcus shouldn't be doing most of that work at all. Esca truly had thought him healed before. Marcus had been so strong by the time they returned with the Eagle, only the faintest limp betraying his injury. But apparently walking and riding the length of Caledonia was very different from farm work, especially where Marcus's leg was concerned.

Esca hadn't said anything through the weeks of the harvest, praying that the renewed limp and the tight pain he saw tracing Marcus's features were no more than an exaggerated version of his and the slaves' ordinary muscle aches. His neglectfulness was rewarded by his later having to watch with helpless, angry guilt as Marcus barely improved in the first week after the harvest, or the second, or the third. Without question, this was the worst consequence of Esca's foolish choice of a farm, but at least this particular problem he could do something about.

"Marcus," he said one evening over their meal. "There's something I need to tell you."

Marcus stilled at the serious request, put his bread down, and gestured for Esca to continue.

He'd practiced the lie all day in his head, so it flowed easily: "Your laboring in the fields and doing construction like a slave is disrupting the household. Simonides and Brennus think you too un-Roman, and they feel the loss to your honor and, by extension, theirs."

(In truth, Simonides and Brennus were impressed by Marcus's achievements and the recognition he'd earned from Rome, as well as indulgent of the restlessness that drove him. Neither slave had been a soldier, but each sympathized with the young commander forced into an early retirement before old age and decades of army life had blunted his energies. Not that either of them had even hinted of this to Esca, of course. But they both gossiped with Aife, who seemed fond of Esca and who didn't scruple to repeat the other slaves' words to him...at least, not when the words in question were in praise of their master.)

Marcus's expression turned almost stern as he sought to conceal his reaction from Esca. He nodded once. "And what do you think?"

"I think that I don't care how un-Roman you are, but I also think that it's not just Romans who avoid that sort of work if they can. Among my people, too, those who owned slaves made them work the land." He didn't mention that, at harvest, everyone labored in the fields, even men as powerful as Esca's father; Marcus couldn't do so any longer, and that's all there was to it.

"What would you have me do, Esca?" Marcus demanded, an almost plaintive note in his voice. "I can't afford more slaves yet, not without borrowing from my uncle, and the work is too much for two men."

"Three men," Esca corrected automatically, puzzled at Marcus's error.

"But you just said that among your people--"

A sharp pain seemed to stab through Esca, as he forced himself to say, "This land is yours, and my labor is yours also." He couldn't bring himself to say the hated word "freedman"; Romans were so avaricious that they'd had to create degrees of freedom, that no man who'd been possessed by another could ever belong to himself alone. If Esca had remained in Caledonia, he'd have ignored Roman notions of obligation gladly. But he'd chosen to return with Marcus, and thereby bound himself to live under Roman law.

By the stricken expression on Marcus's face, he'd forgotten what Esca never could: that Britannia was not Caledonia. "Esca, you must forgive me. I thought... I didn't think." He lapsed into a brief silence, then burst out, "But, even so, I can't do nothing while everyone else works the farm for me."

"No one is asking that of you," Esca assured him. "Just that you turn your hand to different tasks: hunting, fishing, perhaps tending to the animals, especially if you leave the work of mucking out their pens to someone else."

"I can do that," Marcus said with obvious reluctance. "If you think it best."

"I do," Esca said firmly and finished his meal, ignoring the fact that Marcus had gone silent and was moving his food around the plate rather than eating it. He'd known that Marcus would chafe at these restrictions, but Marcus's present unhappiness was less important than protecting him from permanent disability.

* * *

The following day, there were twelve denarii on the table in Esca's room when he woke up. He stared at them for a long moment, his thoughts slow and stupid even as he felt a cold prickle spread through his chest that could only be...anger. Yes, he was _angry_ , not hurt or desolate, and he scooped up the coins and stormed into Marcus's room to cast them down on the table. "What is this?" he demanded icily.

"I owe you seven months' wages," Marcus said, his voice very even, though he did not meet Esca's eyes as he spoke. "My apologies for neglecting my obligations."

"You owe me _nothing_ ," Esca said fiercely. "You house and feed me. You bought me the clothes on my back and the shoes on my feet. You bought this farm for us." He pressed his lips tight over the additional words that clamored to come out-- _You bought it at my request, when even your uncle advised you to leave Britannia. You gave me my freedom in order to save my life. You keep saving my life._ \--words that echoed in his heart but that Marcus might not want to hear.

"I took all of those things into account when determining how much I owed you."

"I won't accept this money."

Marcus sat in silent thought. Finally, he nodded and drew the coins closer to his side of the table. "If the problem is that you live here, then in the spring, we'll build a house for you, and you can start collecting your wages then."

"How is that any different from my living here and taking your money?" Esca demanded.

Marcus shrugged. "It's the proper way of doing things. I wouldn't mind your remaining here and collecting your wages anyway, but of course if you do, then it's better for you to live on your own. Actually, that's probably a better idea all around."

Esca waited for Marcus to explain why it was a better idea, but Marcus was done speaking. He swallowed hard. "Fine," he said, though it was almost the farthest thing from fine there was. If Marcus was determined to institute a proper patron-client relationship between them, then a simple objection wouldn't change anything. Nor could Esca reverse his stance and take Marcus's money if only Marcus would let him remain in the villa. No matter what Marcus might think, Esca hadn't earned it, and he wasn't a thief.

Spring was half a year away; he might yet be able to change Marcus's mind, especially if he didn't put Marcus's back up with an overly hasty and ill-reasoned argument. Marcus wasn't unpersuadable, but he _was_ stubborn.

"I'm going to go work on the wall," Esca added and barely waited for Marcus's answering nod before leaving.

Simonides and Brennus were at work already. They were both strong men; Brennus was bigger even than Marcus. Brennus also knew just how to slot the stones together from the largest slabs to the smallest pebbles in order to form a wall for their flower garden that wouldn't crumble despite weather and use. They were doing a very fair job of it, and Esca tried to erase his frown before either slave could conclude he'd done something to draw Esca's wrath.

"Is the master well?" Simonides asked, with some cause, when Esca reached them. Usually Marcus was the first one of the household to start the day, other than Aife.

"He's decided that we can finish this work on our own," Esca said.

"Too true," Brennus said--perhaps the most unguarded statement Esca had ever heard him make--and Esca nodded his agreement and reached down to help him lift a large stone onto the wall, using his lingering anger to fuel his work.

* * *

That evening, after he'd washed the dust and dirt from his skin and put on clean clothes, Esca hesitated momentarily at the doorway to his room. Marcus might not want him to sit at the table in the villa's dining room, now that the inequality of their roles had been made painfully clear.

And then he took hold of himself and exited his room with a firm step. Marcus and he were still _friends_ , no matter how their friendship bumped uncomfortably against Marcus's peculiar notions of propriety. Marcus would be as pleased to see him as he always was.

Indeed, when Esca approached the table, Marcus smiled broadly at him. "Aife found the time to bake today," he said in lieu of a greeting. "So don't stuff yourself too full during the earlier courses, or you'll miss out."

If Marcus were a different sort of man, Esca might be inclined by his behavior to hope that he'd forgotten their earlier conversation. But Marcus never neglected to do what he believed to be the proper course of action.

"It's not cheesecake, is it?" he asked. Marcus swore that Esca would love cheesecake someday, but that day had yet to arrive.

"No, not cheesecake. You'll like it."

Esca nodded agreeably. As long as it wasn't cheesecake, he probably would.

He waited until they were both eating to ask with deliberate casualness, "What did you do today?" The question would only be this awkward once, he promised himself as he waited for Marcus's reply, and he didn't want to find himself on the periphery of Marcus's life, as he'd never been except among the Seal People.

A half-guilty expression crossed Marcus's face, and Esca wondered whether it was possible he'd sneaked out to gather stones or somesuch while Esca's attention was elsewhere. But then Marcus said, "I tended the animals and mended some clothing and fixed the broken stool and went fishing, though I didn't catch much," in an orderly, stoic-sounding progression of events, and Esca realized the truth. Marcus didn't feel guilty for breaking their agreement; he felt guilty because he didn't think he'd worked hard enough.

"That all sounds good. Shame about the fish, though. You might try your hand at hunting tomorrow, if you wanted. I've been craving hare, and Aife always does a good job with it."

"I could do that," Marcus said, an expression of renewed purpose brightening his face, and Esca permitted himself to smile.

His pride apparently restored, Marcus asked next about Esca's day. The resultant conversation about the wall and the farm and Marcus's plans for it and, "Do you really think we need an apiary, Marcus? The honey would be welcome, but I could do without the bee stings," lasted until Aife removed their empty dishes and brought out a plate of honey cakes.

"Delicious, aren't they?" Marcus asked smugly when Esca was halfway through his second cake. "Of course, I can't afford to buy honey too often, but if we had our own apiary..."

"You make a fine point," Esca said with great dignity and took a third cake.

* * *

They needed a horse, Esca thought as he tramped back from Cunetio, a pair of large bowls in hand. Or possibly a donkey. Something that would enable Marcus to go into town even on days when his leg was paining him--not that he'd ever admit that that was the reason he occasionally asked Esca to run these errands for him.

It wasn't that Esca minded the task. It was a pleasant enough walk, and the townspeople weren't unfriendly, and it was nice to leave the farm sometimes. But all those were also reasons that Marcus should make the journey himself rather than send Esca. Next year he would be sure to suggest that Marcus procure a horse or two.

Marcus liked horses, even beyond finding them useful; he shouldn't be difficult to persuade. Truthfully, it seemed a little odd that Marcus hadn't bought horses already, but Esca hadn't wanted to ask about it when Marcus had been planning the farm, considering how much Marcus had already been spending from his large but not limitless funds.

Esca left the bowls on the kitchen table for Aife, then searched the house for Marcus. He found him at last in the library, bent over a wax tablet.

"Here you go," Esca said and passed Marcus's purse to him, a few coins jingling in its depths.

"I hope you had a drink in town," Marcus said, smiling at him.

"I had two," Esca admitted cheerfully. The day was crisp and cold, but any walk that long would give a man thirst, and Marcus would never begrudge a member of his household the coppers used to such a purpose.

Marcus's smile broadened. "In that case, I hope you had watered wine rather than mead, or I'll think that you didn't care if Aife's new bowls ended up broken on the side of the road."

"I had one cup of mead and one of beer," Esca said. "And I'm quite sober, thank you."

"Of course," Marcus said, inclining his head with mock gravity. He gestured for Esca to sit, and Esca did so gladly. He ought to return to work soon--the byre needed mucking out, among other tasks--but he didn't mind taking a brief rest first. And perhaps Simonides or Brennus would take it upon himself to clean the byre if Esca didn't get there first.

"Any news from town?" Marcus asked.

There was, though none of it was particularly interesting. Still, Esca dutifully told him of the blacksmith's newborn son, large and healthy and apparently very like his father in appearance, and of the wolf that had been terrorizing people's flocks, now safely killed.

Marcus nodded and asked, seemingly at random, "Was Clodia in the potter's shop?"

"Yes," Esca said, frowning in puzzlement. The potter's eldest daughter was always in the shop when he went there; it would be more remarkable if she were absent.

"She's very pretty," Marcus said in a tone that invited agreement, so Esca said:

"She is," despite his growing confusion. Clodia's family wasn't poor, but neither were they rich, and Clodia was British (despite her name), about sixteen years old, and, as previously mentioned, very pretty. She likely wasn't a virgin. It seemed impossible that Marcus might want her as a wife, and equally impossible--given what Esca knew of his temperament and habits--that he'd want her for anything else.

"The farm could spare you if you wanted to make a trip into town every once in a while," Marcus said with a pointed look, and suddenly everything was made clear.

"I can do my own courting if I choose," Esca snapped.

"Of course," Marcus said, sounding genuinely surprised at Esca's reaction. "I only wanted you to know that there's nothing to prevent you from doing so. We're much farther from our neighbors here than we were in Calleva. It would be difficult for you to meet women if you never left the farm...unless you're interested in Aife?"

"No," Esca said with an unamused snort of laughter. He'd had a girl two or three times as a youth, when lust had run so hot in him that being able to stick his cock in a willing body had mattered more than whose body it was. He honestly didn't know if he could manage the feat again. And, certainly, no woman deserved his half-hearted attentions if he _were_ to prove physically capable.

"All right, then," Marcus said calmly. "You don't have to go to Cunetio if you don't want. But if you do want to, then you don't have to ask my permission. Just let me know you're leaving, and I'll likely ask you to buy one or two things for the farm while you're going there anyway."

He gave Esca a look that asked if Esca were done making an unnecessary fuss over nothing, and Esca sighed and nodded. "I'll remember that," he said, not ungrateful for the promise of an unlooked for freedom, despite the fact that he'd never take Marcus up on his offer.

"Good," Marcus said. He continued in a new tone of voice, "You know, I don't think you ever told me. Was your entire family Brigantes, or did some of them hail from other tribes?"

Esca remained silent for a long moment; not because he didn't want to give Marcus an answer, but because he tried not to even think on this topic overmuch, and it proved difficult to force the words out. "My mother was Ordovices," he said at last. "As was one of my aunts. And I had several cousins who were Parisii or Votadini--those are tribes whose land bordered ours."

"You could seek them out," Marcus suggested. "I could give you money and equip you for the journey."

Esca stared at him in helpless bewilderment. That Marcus should encourage him to marry was understandable; Esca was a freedman now, and he'd never told Marcus of his disinterest in women. But to send him away from the farm on a journey of uncertain length and duration was a very different thing. Marcus was encouraging him to abandon the farm they were building together, as though it had no hold on Esca. Worse, as though he himself didn't care that Esca would be away for months on end, when just the thought of leaving Marcus for so long made Esca ache inside.

"No," Esca said forcefully.

"No to the money and equipment, or no to--"

"No to all of it."

If he'd known of any surviving Brigantes, Esca might've sought them out, even if leaving Marcus and their farm would feel like tearing out a piece of his heart. But his mother's tribe had been destroyed by the Romans as the Brigantes had, and his surviving kin in the other tribes were strangers to him, who would despise him for loving a Roman and even more for what that love had prompted him to do.

"It's not good for a man to be without family," Marcus persisted.

 _You're my family_ , Esca didn't say. He'd bound himself deeply and irrevocably to Marcus when he'd chosen to help him steal the Eagle, but he couldn't force Marcus to reciprocate. If all Marcus ever was to him was a dear friend and patron, rather than a brother of his heart, then Esca could not begrudge him that.

Esca had always known that their current situation wouldn't last; someday Marcus would marry, and Marcus and he would remain friends, but Marcus would naturally love his wife and children more than he loved Esca. Esca had imagined that when that happened he'd manage more of the day-to-day farm work in order to allow Marcus time with his family, and that maybe Marcus would let him teach his children how to speak British and help show his sons how to hunt and his daughters how to fight (or possibly Esca would have to do the last behind Marcus's back). It was a bittersweet dream, yet one that Esca had cherished.

What he hadn't expected was that Marcus might take even his friendship away from Esca, and not because he loved another more, but because he perhaps didn't love Esca at all. Esca tried to convince himself that Marcus was only being a conscientious patron, but he couldn't manage it. Marcus was trying to place a distance between them: encouraging Esca to leave, to marry, to live on his own...seemingly anything and everything he could think of that would push them apart.

"I should get back to work," Esca said, rising to his feet.

Marcus frowned as he left--at Esca's refusal to agree with him? At his rudeness? For some other reason entirely? Esca no longer felt qualified to guess.

He remembered their time in Caledonia, when Marcus had tried to send him away with the Eagle in order to save Esca's life and his family's honor, even at the expense of his own life. Just that morning, Esca would have said that Marcus would never send him away in less desperate circumstances. He would have been wrong.

* * *

Simonides and Brennus hadn't cleaned the byre; Esca found himself obscurely grateful for this. He needed a chance to be alone and think, and he was unlikely to be disturbed while he was busy shoveling cow shit.

He grabbed a shovel and got to work, trying to ignore the ache that rose in his chest just from thinking about his recent conversation with Marcus. Everything that he hadn't lost in the Brigantes' defeat, he'd given up for love of Marcus, and now Marcus seemed to want Esca to give _him_ up, as well.

Esca refused to do that, however. If friendship didn't form a strong enough bond for Marcus, then Esca would have to offer him something other than simple friendship.

It wasn't as though he'd never thought about bedding Marcus before. But Marcus had never indicated that he might want that--not when Esca had been a slave, and not when he'd freed him--so Esca had saved those thoughts for nighttime and never spoken of them. Despite this, Esca could only hope that Marcus, who'd been celibate in all the time he'd known him, would leap at the chance to fuck someone without having to privately condemn himself as either intemperate (as he no doubt would were he to frequent a prostitute) or importunate (as he would were he to seduce a citizen or free Briton).

But perhaps Marcus was as undesirous towards men as Esca was towards women. Or perhaps Marcus liked men well enough but found Esca in particular unattractive. Or perhaps his sense of propriety was so rigid that he considered it improper to fuck anyone but his future wife. There had to be a reason that Marcus had never demanded Esca's sexual service as almost any other Roman would. Esca hoped that it was only that Marcus was a very strange Roman, who had trusted and liked Esca from the beginning and whose orders had sounded more as though he were issuing commands to a soldier in his cohort than speaking to a slave.

In any case, it was worth the risk. Esca had given Marcus his heart and the labor of his hands, and Marcus seemed painfully indifferent to both; Esca's body was the only thing he had left to offer.

* * *

"Marcus?" Esca called softly from the doorway. "May I come in?"

"Of course."

Marcus wasn't in bed yet, which was fortunate. Esca had wanted to wait until the rest of the household had settled for the night before approaching him, but Marcus tended to be early to bed. If Esca had left it too long, he'd be needing to do this all again the following night.

Marcus made room on his table for Esca's lamp, setting aside the scroll he'd been reading. Esca recognized it from its shape and size as the Aeneid; Marcus wasn't a great scholar, but he'd asked Esca to fetch this particular scroll for him more than once.

"Is anything wrong? You were quiet at dinner. You're not getting ill, are you?"

Esca had been too nervous for pleasant conversation at dinner. This condition had barely been alleviated by his renewed resolve at Marcus's commenting over the soup that he'd asked Simonides and Brennus to begin piling rocks for Esca's home by the southern hill, now that the wall was done, and did Esca want two or three rooms to start with?

"No, I'm not ill," he said.

Marcus's eyes sharpened. "I notice you don't say that nothing's wrong."

"I'm not here to complain to you," Esca said evasively. "But I do have a request."

"What is it?"

Esca reached out to take his hand, and Marcus gripped back firmly, his face still open and expectant, with no dawning of understanding yet. They'd clasped hands so rarely that Esa had felt certain that Marcus would understand him instantly. He could tell Marcus what he wanted, of course, but Esca had enough pride left in him to recoil at the thought of begging for Marcus's favor. Instead, he took a deep breath and placed his other hand on Marcus's thigh, very close to the join of his body, so that there could be no chance his gesture might be misinterpreted.

A welter of emotions crossed Marcus's face, too many for Esca to decipher, but a lack of understanding was definitely no longer among them. And then Marcus leaned forward, obviously intending to kiss him, and Esca quickly turned his face to the side. Better to not have Marcus's kisses at all than to have them once and then have to give them up.

"Esca?" Marcus asked roughly, an uncertain note in his voice.

Esca flashed him a quick smile that he didn't feel. "I'd rather do other things with you, if that's all right." He moved the hand on Marcus's thigh until his fingers brushed against Marcus's cock, still separated from him by a thick layer or two of fabric. His fingers twitched instinctively.

Marcus looked neither mollified by this gesture nor--somewhat insultingly--turned on. He frowned at Esca. "This isn't... You know that you've no obligation to have sex with me, don't you?"

Esca's lips pulled back into a fierce grin. "If you required this, I wouldn't do it." He was perhaps lying--he'd done many things in recent years that he'd never even have imagined doing when he was younger--but it felt like the truth. He didn't think he could love Marcus anymore if Marcus tried to take him by force, without even the excuse of Esca's being his slave. Esca would kill him and run away, or possibly just run away without killing him, but in either case he wouldn't be sharing Marcus's bed at the end of it.

Marcus smiled in response, as though he were genuinely pleased at Esca's promise of disobedience. It probably helped that he couldn't see into Esca's mind and know that Esca would consider murdering him for the insult...though, considering the expression that Esca could feel tightening his face, it wasn't impossible that Marcus knew anyway.

"What do you want, then?" Marcus asked, as absurdly generous as he'd been when he let Esca decide their course of action after the Eagle's return, and Esca wondered briefly if he'd gotten it wrong after all. Maybe Marcus wasn't trying to rid himself of Esca's presence. Maybe he was just unable to restrain himself from offering Esca things: money, his own house, a wife, his family restored to him.

But that wasn't a risk Esca could take, so he bit back the desire to answer, _I want you to love me as I love you_ , and instead said, "Over here." He let go of their still-joined hands and crossed the room to Marcus's bed, Marcus following behind him.

The bed was too narrow to accommodate both of them easily, so Esca waited until Marcus sat down, looking up at him with a bemused yet trusting expression, before he slid to his knees.

Marcus gasped when Esca pushed his tunic up to the waist, and again when Esca stroked his hands along Marcus's bared thighs. The left leg felt no less muscled than the right, though that might have been partly due to the hard knots Esca could feel beneath his palm. Perhaps he could renew his near-nightly massages after this. He knew that Marcus sometimes asked Brennus for a massage, but either Brennus wasn't as skilled as Esca, or Marcus didn't like to ask frequently enough for it to do him much good.

Marcus's cock was filling rapidly, and Esca gazed at it appreciatively even as he crawled forward into the gap between Marcus's splayed thighs. He wanted to touch it, but if he did that he might lose his nerve and opt to stroke Marcus off, and that could be a terrible mistake. No holds barred, that was the plan; he didn't want to lose Marcus through insufficient determination.

So he tightened his hands on Marcus's hips and leaned forward to nuzzle his cock with his cheek.

Marcus made a strangled sound. "Esca, you don't have to," he said urgently, which was not at all a 'no.'

"What I want," Esca reminded him and closed his eyes so that he wouldn't be tempted to look at Marcus's expression (disbelieving? disgusted? lascivious?) as he licked up the length of Marcus's cock and sucked it into his mouth.

In a moment, he planned to lick his hand wet and wrap it around the base of Marcus's cock, to make this really good for him, but first Esca wanted to show off a little. He rubbed his tongue along the underside of Marcus's cock, making sure to press hard against the small notch under the head. And then he slid his mouth down and didn't stop until the entire length of Marcus's cock was sheathed in Esca's mouth and the tight circle of his throat.

Marcus moaned and his hips stuttered briefly, and Esca had to bite back a smirk. Romans: they loved cocksucking even more than they hated it...just as long as they weren't the ones doing the sucking.

Esca pulled up slowly, wanting to impress Marcus with his mouth in a few other ways. Marcus said, "Esca," in a desperate tone, one hand tugging suddenly at Esca's shoulder, but it didn't mean anything to him until Marcus cried out, "Fuck!" and came in Esca's mouth.

Esca choked a little, which he thought completely understandable under the circumstances. He'd barely put his mouth on Marcus! How should he have known to expect the man to shoot like a beardless youth?

Marcus made a distressed noise just then; Esca rubbed his hip soothingly and managed to swallow the next pulse of come without choking on it, and the one after that. He'd wanted Marcus to love this, and Marcus apparently had, very much. Now Esca just had to make sure that Marcus didn't feel guilty or embarrassed to no good purpose and when he hadn't done anything wrong.

"Esca," Marcus said again, squirming slightly, and Esca let his cock slip out of his mouth. He pressed a kiss to Marcus's thigh, and then another. He wondered whether he ought to stay and offer Marcus a second orgasm--Marcus was young enough that it shouldn't be too long before he roused again--or whether Marcus would prefer to go to sleep.

Before he could make up his mind, Marcus said, "Come up here," a bit breathlessly, patting the bed beside him.

Esca stood, a little nonplussed--a feeling that only intensified when Marcus said, "Wait, first take your clothes off." When Esca stared at him in surprise, Marcus added, "If you want?" in a somewhat confused tone, as though he couldn't imagine why Esca wasn't naked already.

Esca took off his tunic, dropping it carelessly to the floor. He was hard, of course, after touching and tasting Marcus, even for so short a time. Marcus's eyes flicked back and forth from his erection to his face; Esca couldn't help but wonder whether Marcus actually desired him or whether he had fallen prey to some unexpected compulsion for reciprocity.

Esca was far from the Roman ideal, which prized boys so soft and perfumed they looked almost like girls. It was part of why he'd offered Marcus his mouth rather than his arse: it mattered less what he looked like when all Marcus had to do was close his eyes to imagine someone else in Esca's place.

"I'd still like you to sit with me," Marcus said, almost apologetically, interrupting Esca's thoughts. He scooted down the bed a foot or so to give Esca more room, as though that might be the reason Esca hadn't complied with his request.

Esca sat beside him and then, at Marcus's urging, leaned back against the pillows, his feet resting on the floor to either side of the bed, so that he was completely exposed.

"Is this all right?" Marcus asked, staring into his eyes intently.

"Fine," Esca said in a voice that he hoped didn't sound as tense as he felt. He wanted Marcus's hands on him, but even more than that he wanted to share Marcus's life. If Marcus didn't truly desire him but was only acting out of a sense of obligation, then Esca's receiving the former might lead to his losing the latter. 

Marcus placed his hands on Esca's chest, thumbs brushing against his tight nipples deliberately yet teasingly. He sucked in a sharp breath at the same moment that Esca did, his eyes darkening, and Esca felt himself suffused with a sudden triumphant joy. _Not obligation after all_ , he thought as Marcus stroked his hands over Esca's chest and hips, his gaze lingering on Esca's broad shoulders and his thick cock in its nest of hair with every appearance of desire.

He wrapped a broad, callused hand around Esca's cock and proceeded to coax a wave of pleasure from Esca with every stroke and every swipe of his thumb over the wet head. At one point, Marcus licked his lips as he worked, only to blush instantly when he saw Esca's eyes track that flicker of tongue.

Esca closed his eyes. He didn't know if Marcus's blush were in response to being observed enjoying this, to his being so obviously desired by Esca, or to the guessed-at direction of Esca's thoughts. Truly, he didn't care which it was. Marcus held himself to a higher standard than almost any man, but Esca never would treat him the same; Marcus was beautiful even if he didn't care to admit it; and Esca felt no shame in fantasizing about Marcus's mouth even though he knew he'd never get it.

And none of those things mattered more in this moment than the tight, perfect grip of Marcus's hand as he drew Esca's pleasure higher and higher and...

Esca arched upwards as he came, chasing his pleasure despite the fact that it was already crashing over him. Marcus adjusted smoothly to the new angle and again when Esca dropped his hips back onto the bed, his strokes never hesitating as he milked another few joyous shudders out of Esca's body.

A wet cloth swiped over Esca's stomach, and he almost jumped out of his skin. Had he fallen asleep? He must have; he couldn't remember Marcus leaving the bed, crossing the room to the ewer of water he kept on a shelf, and returning. He rushed to take the cloth from Marcus with a somewhat shaky hand and finished cleaning himself; when Marcus held his hand out for the cloth he handed it over without complaint and watched Marcus toss it into a corner for Aife to deal with later.

"I should go," Esca said muzzily, rising to stand on legs that felt as unsteady as a drunkard's.

"All right," Marcus said, sounding half-amused and half...something else that Esca couldn't begin to interpret, not now when he was still thrumming with pleasure overlaid onto his previous layers of nervousness.

He scooped his tunic up from the floor and slipped it over his head despite the improbability of his running into anyone on the way back to his room. Marcus would be scandalized if Esca walked out of his room naked; that was reason enough not to do it.

"Are you sure you don't need help getting back to your room?" Marcus asked with a smile when Esca yawned outrageously before he'd taken two steps. "You look ready to walk into the walls."

Esca waved his offer aside. "I'll be fine," he insisted.

He was out the door before he realized he'd forgotten his lamp, and then didn't want to go back for it. He trailed his hand along the wall to mark his place and stepped carefully, and soon he was tumbling into his bed and falling asleep more easily than he could have imagined, given the evening's events.

* * *

Marcus was in the kitchen eating bread and cheese, despite the fact that the sun was barely up. Esca had tried more than once to convince him that it was better to break one's fast in the morning rather than midday, but Marcus had proven absurdly resistant to the idea that an empty belly was no good thing.

Yet here he was, on the one morning when Esca would have preferred that he keep to his room, at least until Esca had managed to assume the appearance of normalcy. What could he be doing in the kitchen on this morning in particular, Esca wondered, off-balance and more than a little anxious. Perhaps Marcus simply needed to restore his energies after last night's exertions, he thought optimistically, and that cheerful--albeit unlikely--thought was enough to carry him through the doorway.

Marcus's head darted up as Esca approached, though he said nothing and made no gesture other than to watch Esca. His face was a mask, but his eyes betrayed his feelings; they held the stoic determination that Esca was used to seeing when they found themselves in a desperate situation. Esca imagined that Marcus must have taken his whippings as a boy with much the same expression.

It helped to know that Marcus wasn't unmoved by what they'd done together, and helped even more that Marcus seemed to be waiting for Esca to make the first move. Esca had already decided that, as long as Marcus didn't seem angry or disgusted with him, the best course of action was to act towards him in as friendly a manner as always. He wanted to safeguard whatever remained of Marcus's friendship, if that was at all possible. Marcus's silence was invitation enough for him to follow that plan.

"Good morning," he said warmly and sat beside Marcus with what he hoped was a fine display of unconcern.

Marcus returned the greeting with good will and a palpable sense of relief, which soothed Esca in turn. He broke off large chunks of bread and cheese for himself, now that his stomach felt settled enough to accept them. A moment later, Aife handed him a cup of the dark herb tea that he liked and that Marcus professed too bitter to drink; she must have kept it warming by the hearth for him, as she often did.

Esca nodded his thanks and took an appreciative sip. "Have we any apples left?" he asked. Most of their harvest was sliced and strung to dry for winter, but he thought they still had some fresh ones.

"Several," she said and turned to rummage in one of the cupboards. She placed two only slightly wrinkled apples in front of Esca and two--without prompting--in front of Marcus.

Marcus turned a long-suffering expression on Esca, and Esca grinned back at him, feeling giddy with his relief. "Oh, yes, it's truly terrible how she tries to fatten you up," he said insincerely, then held still so that Aife, laughing, could cuff him on the head.

* * *

Returning to Marcus's bedchamber that night was only a little less nervewracking than going there the first time had been. It might not have been difficult to trip Marcus into bed with him when Esca had had surprise on his side and Marcus had been celibate for so long, but now Marcus's body had been sated and he'd had a full day to think about how much he truly wanted this.

Marcus's eyes fixed on his from the moment Esca entered the room, and he rose from his chair when Esca approached. So far, so good. When Esca put his hands on him, though, Marcus didn't reciprocate, and his body remained stiff and unyielding.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Marcus asked. There was nothing in his voice to indicate whether he meant it as a genuine question, or whether he was trying to prompt Esca into answering 'no.'

Esca stroked his hand along Marcus's side and felt him shudder beneath the touch: response and persuasion both, depending on which was needed. "It was good, I thought," he said, even as his nervousness grew. Marcus had enjoyed himself last night, that much had been obvious, but that didn't mean he wouldn't reject Esca now. Marcus often denied himself.

"Very good," Marcus agreed quickly. "But I didn't know if you..."

He trailed off, but at least none of that sounded like a rejection, and Esca responded by dropping to his knees and giving both of them something more pleasant to think about.

* * *

"Titus Aemilius came by to borrow a turf cutter earlier today," Marcus said. "He mentioned that there's a stranger in town, an Ordovices man."

Esca looked up from the latrunculi board, uncertain how to respond. It was possible that Marcus meant nothing more than to do Esca a kindness by telling him this. Or it was possible that he still hoped Esca would decide to leave in order to seek his scattered kin, even though it was full winter and Esca might not be able to return in time for the spring planting if he were to go now.

When the silence had gone on too long, Marcus said in an encouraging tone, "It's not likely that this man in particular is kin to you, but he may know those who are and could tell you of them."

"I've never met any Ordovices other than my mother and aunt," Esca said at last. "They mean nothing to me." He moved one of his stones carelessly, barely looking to see that its new position wouldn't expose him to an immediate attack.

"I'd never met my uncle Aquila until a few years ago," Marcus said. He studied the board with far more attention than Esca had granted it. "And he has turned out to be the best of uncles."

"You are fortunate to have him," Esca acknowledged. "But I think I will remain here rather than chase the ghosts of my family across Britannia." He only wished that Marcus might not look so unhappy to hear it.

* * *

Esca stumbled blearily into the kitchen in search of breakfast and let Aife settle him at the table with a bowl of porridge. On an ordinary winter morning, he wouldn't be up yet, but he'd noticed Marcus limping slightly the previous night and resolved to wake before him in order to feed and water the animals. The cold wasn't good for Marcus's leg, especially early in the morning when the muscles were stiff from inactivity.

He blamed his tiredness for the fact that it took him several moments to realize that Aife wasn't chatting idly to him, but trying to draw information from him. Even then, it was the dull flush across her cheeks--not from the heat of the fire, after all, as he'd originally assumed--and the nervous twist of her hands in her apron that alerted him, more than her words.

He cast his mind back quickly over what she'd just said: "The farm's settling nicely now that the crops are all in. The master seems well pleased with it. Though Brennus and Simonides were wondering if there's any work that needs done that they're neglecting, now that they're not so busy in the fields."

Oh. The three of them had noticed Esca visiting Marcus's bedchamber at night, then, and were anxious to know whether Marcus was about to demand the same service of them.

Esca shook his head firmly. "They're doing fine work. You all are. Nothing more is necessary." A sudden thought occurred to him, and he added, "Though, since they have the extra time, they might carry water to the kitchen as needed." Hauling the full buckets was the hardest part of Aife's job, made all the more difficult in the colder months when she often had to break a layer of ice on the stream first. The rest of the household was enjoying a lightened workload; she might as well share their good fortunes for the winter.

She gave him a quick, relieved smile. "I'll be sure to let them know. Thank you."

And Esca pretended very hard that she was thanking him only for the water, and not for anything else.

* * *

Marcus's bed scraped against the floor with a rough noise, and Esca tightened his grip on the headboard. This would be easier if the bed were large enough for the two of them to lie on comfortably, or even if Marcus could kneel without pain, so that he could bend Esca over the width of the bed and take him that way.

Marcus's next sharp thrust was gorgeous enough to blank out everything else.

 _A chair_ , Esca thought when clarity returned to him. That's what they could use the next time, rather than trying to fuck standing up while Esca braced himself on the headboard. Or a wall, why hadn't they tried this against a wall?

As if to applaud that thought, the bed shifted forward another inch. This might've been more annoying had it not changed the position of their bodies just enough that what had previously been pleasant with the occasional moment of ecstasy was now incendiary.

"Oh, fuck yes," Esca moaned, shoving his hips back to meet each perfect thrust. "Marcus..."

Marcus's hands tightened on his hips and he made a helpless sound of agreement in his throat. Neither of them could reach Esca's cock without risking a tumble to the floor, but it didn't matter. Esca could feel his balls tightening just from this, and another half a dozen thrusts were all it took to have him coming all over the floor and the side of Marcus's bed.

His arms and legs felt shaky in the wake of orgasm, but he simply locked his knees and clutched the headboard as tightly as he could until Marcus groaned and came, his hands clenching Esca's hips hard enough to bruise.

They stood pressed sweatily together for a long moment, frozen but for the heave of their chests and the faint tremble of their limbs. Then Marcus slid his cock carefully out of Esca's arse and walked the few steps necessary to collapse heavily on the bed. Esca followed his example.

And to think that his primary purpose when he'd first come to Marcus's room that night oiled and prepared had been to keep Marcus from becoming bored. Marcus reached a hot, damp hand over to take Esca's, and Esca squeezed it tightly and gratefully in his.

It felt enough to choke him sometimes, the vast distance between what he'd once hoped for and what he actually had. Esca could claim Marcus's friendly smiles in the day and the pleasure of his body at night, but never more than that, and certainly nothing like the soul-deep devotion that Esca felt for him. Yet there were also moments like this, when it was nevertheless obvious that Marcus _did_ care for him, even if Marcus's notions of friendship were a pale shadow of what Esca called by the same name. It wasn't even close to what Esca truly desired, and yet it would be enough.

* * *

"What's this?" Esca asked curiously, leaning over Marcus's shoulder.

Marcus pushed the marked-up paper to the right so that Esca could see it better. "Plans for a bath for the villa. See, here's the kitchen and the library next to it. If we put the bath on the opposite side, the library will be safe from the damp and we'll still be able to get to the bath from the veranda. And this way we can easily supply the kitchen with running water, as well, and make Aife much happier."

Esca stared hard at the paper. He wasn't as adept at translating the lines into mental pictures as Marcus was, but he still thought: "Won't that make the kitchen very dark? This is the wall with the hearth, isn't it?" He pointed carefully. "So wouldn't another room here mean that the kitchen couldn't have a window anymore?"

Marcus nodded. "I'd thought of that. See these marks along this wall? Those indicate clerestory windows for the kitchen. And we might also widen this doorway--" he gestured at a gap that must be the door from the kitchen to the veranda "--and then the kitchen would get more light from that direction, as well."

"When did you want to build this?" Esca asked, staring at the many markings on the paper.

"Not for two or three years, at least," Marcus said. "The expense will be considerable." He smiled suddenly, and Esca warmed to see it before Marcus's next words sent an unpleasant chill through his blood. "Don't worry, your house is still our next building project."

"I wasn't worried," Esca told him, his voice sounding hollow despite his best efforts, though Marcus didn't seem to notice. 

"Brennus thought you might prefer a clay house rather than stone," Marcus added. "Though I suppose it could depend on whether you intend to marry a Roman or a British woman. A Roman woman would prefer stone, I'm sure."

"I..." Esca stared at him helplessly, wishing that he could explain himself to Marcus and fearing it all the same. Not even the Romans thought that there was anything wrong with liking men, and they had some of the most ridiculous taboos Esca had ever heard of, but he thought they might think there was something wrong with his not liking women. And Esca was already doing all manner of things with Marcus that the Romans considered unmanly; he couldn't add another to the tally.

Maybe there was a time when Esca could have told Marcus without fearing overmuch that he would lose Marcus's good opinion of him. But that time, if it ever existed, was years past, and now Marcus's friendship was too precious to risk.

"I'd rather have clay," he said finally. Simonides and Brennus shouldn't be made to haul stones for a house that Esca still hoped would never be built. And if he couldn't prevent Marcus's exiling him from the villa, then Esca would rather have a clay house.

Marcus nodded and picked up a wax tablet lying on the table and placed it in front of Esca, along with a stylus. "Can you show me?" he asked. When Esca didn't immediately pick up the stylus, he explained, "I've seen a few British houses, so I know that they're round and have no windows, but that doesn't tell me how to build one."

"I don't know," Esca said shortly, which was only half a lie. It took a great deal of strength to build a house, and Esca hadn't reached his full growth until after his tribe's defeat by the Romans. Not that Cunoval's son would have been the first choice to perform that sort of labor, in any case. He'd seen it done, though, many times.

"Ask someone else," he advised and left the room without giving the tablet and stylus another glance.

* * *

Simonides placed a stone on the board, and Esca blanked his face to conceal his triumphant grin. Simonides was trying to construct a three and four, but Esca slipped his stone into the corner position and spoiled his plans.

"You know that it hardly matters how many of my patterns you break, if you never make any of your own," Simonides said conversationally.

Esca shrugged. It was true that he was a better defensive player and that he won far fewer games than Simonides. On the other hand, he'd only learned how to play calculi from Marcus two years ago and hadn't had much opportunity to practice in that time.

Simonides chuckled in response and placed another stone. This one's purpose was a mystery to Esca. He studied the board carefully to make sure there wasn't an emerging pattern he was missing, then placed his stone in the upper portion of the board where several lines of his stones were already congregated. He sat back to let Simonides make a countermove.

He'd never anticipated that all he'd needed to do to gain the slaves' acceptance was to start fucking Marcus. If anything, he would've thought they'd have the opposite reaction: that his gaining Marcus's favor with his mouth and arse would only make them despise him more. Instead, it seemed that they hadn't previously resented Esca so much as they hadn't known how to treat him. Marcus's using his freedman for pleasure--and perhaps indulging him a little, as some patrons did with their client lovers--was much more comprehensible than his treating one as a friend.

Since the end result was that Esca had more than two people in his life willing to talk to him, he wasn't about to turn away Simonides's and Brennus's friendliness, though it sometimes gave him a pang to think of his buying others' goodwill with something that he'd intended to be between him and Marcus alone.

* * *

Esca stroked himself with a quick touch and tried not to moan too loudly. The floor was hard under his knees, but he didn't care. Marcus was sprawled across the bed before him, sweat-sheened and gloriously debauched, his chest rising and falling rapidly in response to his recent orgasm. His cock was softening slowly against his thigh, streaks of wetness shining on it from Esca's mouth and the traces of come he hadn't swallowed. Esca licked his lips, still tasting Marcus on his tongue.

Marcus smiled at him, his eyes half-lidded with pleasure, as though watching Esca masturbate were just as sweet for him as watching Marcus while masturbating was for Esca.

"You could fuck me," Marcus said.

" _What?_ " Esca froze in shock, then let go of his cock altogether, too startled and out of countenance to continue.

Marcus turned red, which made it more likely that Esca hadn't misheard him, after all, incredible as it seemed.

"Do you like that?" Esca asked, and then could've bitten his own tongue. Of course Marcus must like it, or he wouldn't ask for it, and now Marcus would feel compelled to shame himself by admitting to this very un-Roman desire.

But Marcus only shrugged. "I don't know," he said. "I've never tried it."

Esca felt his throat go tight with a strange mixture of fear and longing. Of course he wanted Marcus that way; he had even before he'd _liked_ him. He used to sneak surreptitious glances at Marcus's broad back and the gorgeous curve of his arse and imagine curling himself over his body and fucking him until they both came. But that was only a fantasy. In reality, Marcus might hate it; some men did, every time. Marcus was so painfully Roman. Would his body even let him submit to being fucked? Or, worse, what if Marcus _did_ like it and grew to resent Esca for making him betray his ideals?

Marcus shook his head, the motion pulling Esca out of his thoughts. "Never mind. It was a foolish idea," he said, and Esca sighed with mingled disappointment and relief. "I shouldn't have interrupted you," he added.

Esca took the hint and placed his hand back on his cock. He'd softened a little, but a few strokes of his hand and the weight of Marcus's appreciative gaze were enough to bring him to full hardness once more. He raised his free hand to pinch one nipple, then the other, more for the way it made Marcus's eyes darken with desire than for any other reason. Marcus's own nipples were still drawn tight; it was cold in the room. Esca imagined leaning over to rub them with the tip of his tongue, to test them gently with his teeth as Marcus moaned above his head...and that thought was enough to send him over the edge.

* * *

"Emer was asking after you," Marcus said.

By which, Esca thought bitterly, he undoubtedly meant that he'd mentioned Esca to her when Marcus had been in the blacksmith's shop, and the poor girl had had no choice but to ask after Esca, to whom she otherwise wouldn't have given a single thought.

"Not Clodia?" he asked.

Marcus frowned. "I thought you didn't like Clodia."

"She's a fine, pleasant girl," Esca said, exasperated. "But that doesn't mean I'm going to marry her."

"No, but you ought to marry _someone_ ," Marcus said; Esca's chest tightened a little at Marcus's unthinkingly hurtful words. Marcus turned suddenly to the satchel he'd carried to town and drew out a piece of paper. "Look," he said. "You told me to ask someone else how to make a clay house, so I did. We'll be able to build it in another month or so."

Esca looked unwillingly at the circle drawn on the paper, marked all around with lines and letters that presumably meant something to Marcus, though Esca couldn't understand what they signified at all. He vaguely remembered having given Marcus that advice. He wondered how Marcus would respond if Esca were to explain that, "Ask someone else," had really meant, "I want no part of this."

He had enough presence of mind to keep his mouth shut on that point, but his irritation was such that when Marcus continued, "So there's nothing to prevent your marrying whenever you want," Esca burst out:

"Did it ever occur to you that I might not want to?"

Marcus blinked at him. Apparently it hadn't.

"I don't desire women," Esca said more quietly--so quietly that he almost couldn't hear himself over the frantic beat of his heart.

"But...have you tried?" Marcus asked, only to startle at Esca's bitter laugh.

"I'm sorry, Marcus. But, yes. Of course I've tried. It was..." Esca shrugged. "I don't desire women," he repeated firmly.

"So...you truly don't wish to marry," Marcus said, his voice as slow and deliberate as though he were feeling his way along a precipice.

"Not at all." This wasn't entirely the truth. Esca liked children, and he was regretful that he'd never have any of his own. But there was no point in dwelling upon what couldn't be changed.

A long silence fell, in which Esca waited for Marcus to pass judgement on him. At last, Marcus nodded heavily. "Then I don't need to marry, either."

"What?" Esca asked, startled. "Why wouldn't you?"

"It's not fair for me to marry when you can't," Marcus said matter-of-factly. 

Esca shook his head in confusion. "I don't see how whether or not I marry affects you at all."

"It's not fair," Marcus repeated, as though that meant anything. "If we were both married, then it wouldn't matter what we do together. But it's not fair for me to have both you and a wife when you can't have the same." He shrugged awkwardly. "If we ever stop, because you end up going back to your kin or because...you don't want to anymore, then I might take a wife. But until that happens, I'd rather just have you."

"No," Esca said flatly, disbelieving. "You're the one who keeps trying to make me leave you. If what you just said were true, then you'd want me around even when I'm not actively sucking your cock." His eyes were burning by the end with humiliation and old grief, but he glared at Marcus regardless.

"Esca!" Marcus said, his face gone white, though he met Esca's eyes steadily. "I _never_ wanted you to leave," he swore. "I only ever wanted you to be free."

"I am free. You freed me," Esca said impatiently.

Marcus shook his head. "I don't mean that I want you to be a freedman. I want you to be _free_. I want you to go where you please and disobey my orders whenever you disagree with me and to think of your own pleasure before mine."

"You truly want my disobedience?" Esca asked, plucking that most interesting desire from Marcus's speech.

Marcus let out a rough sigh. "I do," he said, sounding as though the words were being ripped out of him; Esca wondered what Marcus could possibly believe Esca might want, for him to act as though Esca were about to run him through.

"Then, Marcus, I refuse to move into a new house," Esca said, a soaring feeling lifting his breastbone. "I'm going to stay here in the villa with you, and if you try to send me away again, I'll make you stop. You won't pay me for my work either. And also...I want a new bed. A British bed: wide and low to the ground, and more than big enough for two men to share. You can sell my old bed, or give it to Aife, whatever you want. But I'm tired of always sleeping alone." He paused reflectively. "If you don't care to sleep in a British bed with me, then that's all right. But I don't want to keep a Roman bed in either case."

Marcus stared at Esca, his expression half-disbelieving and half-hopeful. "Those are the things you want?"

Esca nodded. "Now you," he said. "Since it seems that you've been hiding your desires from me, as well."

"I, yes," Marcus said somewhat confusedly. "I want everything that you want, I can't think of anything else. Or...I'd like to kiss you sometimes, but if you still don't--"

Esca stepped forward into Marcus's arms before he could even finish speaking and lifted his mouth to his. Marcus made a hungry noise and kissed back, his tongue pressing its way into Esca's mouth to taste him deeply and to stroke against Esca's tongue, while his arms tightened around Esca as though he wished to never let him go.

* * *

Two years later, they expanded the villa. They made the stables bigger, now that the household had begun to breed horses and not just ride them, and they built a well-equipped bath according to Marcus's carefully drawn plans. The plans for Esca's house still lay at the bottom of a cupboard.


End file.
